5 Pips in Time
by crazycuppycake
Summary: Amy is sitting in a bar when she is deduced by a mysterious, tall dark stranger. Soon, she is swept into a whole new adventure when Sherlock receives a new warning...
1. Vodka, Coke & Bullets

**Heyy :)**

**I'm a huuuge fan of Doctor Who and Sherlock, so here's a little crossover fic for them :)**

**I'm not sure where this story is gonna go but hey, another 5 pips for Sherlock to solve :')  
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**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Benedict Cumberbatch, but I don't. *dayumm* Neither do I own Amy Pond, Sherlock, Doctor Who or any other BBC stuffs metioned here :p  
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Amy Pond gaped at the man sat across from her, nearly choking on her vodka & coke. He smirked, used to the reactions his deductions usually induced. He had been sitting at the Criterion bar drinking a coffee, black with two sugars, when a young woman had slid effortlessly onto the tall bar stool beside him. There was something about her that was different, he thought, something striking. It wasn't her hair, which tumbled down her back in a shining blaze of copper. No – gingers weren't really his thing – though there was one time while he was at Harrow…no. It wasn't even her legs that interested him, long and slender and covered only by an impossibly short mini-skirt. No, it was something different, something new – something fascinating.

Within the seconds the stranger had reeled off Amy's age, the fact she had grown up in Leadworth, and even her past profession (how the hell had he known about the whole kissogram thing? It was a laugh but surely it wasn't that glaringly obvious!). He could even tell her that she had recently broken her wrist.

"There's a small swollen area below your left thumb where the bone was shifted upwards" he had said. The young women shook her head disbelievingly.

"How can you know all this? Are you some kind of – I don't know – mind reader or something?" The man smiled ruefully.

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world"

"A detective?"

"A _consulting_ detective. When the police are out of their depth they come to me for help."

"Sounds intriguing." Smiled Amy. "So, go on impress me. Tell me more. I'm pretty complex you know."

The consulting detective frowned, his brow furrowing under a fringe of dark curls.

"I can't. It's like, there's so much about you, but nothing makes sense. It's really quite…mesmerising"

Amy's heart fluttered and she took a sip of her drink, trying not to blush. The man's phone rang. He answered, and a series of 5 Greenwich pips rang out. He stared at the screen, clearly trying to regain some composure. "Well, miss…what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. It's Amy – Amy Pond"

"Well - Amy Pond – that mysterious air about you that I can't decipher…someone's drawing my attention to it." He turned the phone to face Amy, and she gasped as she saw a photograph of herself on the screen. He nodded.

"Someone else has noticed it too, and you really need to duck right about now" Saying this he threw himself at her, knocking her to the floor, as the glasses on the bar were obliterated in a shower of bullets.

"Just who the hell are you?" Amy looked up at him, adrenaline coursing through her.

He flicked a dark curl out of his eyes and looked down at her, his eyes filled with fire and adrenaline.

"The names Sherlock Holmes."

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**I can has opinions please? :)**


	2. An apple a day

**I'm so so so sorry for this chapters utter crappyness but returning to college has given me a ton of work to be getting on with D:**

**So this was written in very little time with very little effort :/**

**Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes :(**

**Enjoy :p  
**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Benedict Cumberbatch, but I don't. *dayumm* Neither do I own Amy Pond, Sherlock, Doctor Who or any other BBC stuffs metioned here :p**

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Amy sank into the armchair back at 221B, picking a shard of glass out of her hair.

"Sherlock, why were you sent a picture of me? What am I to them? I'm a nobody." She looked across at the consulting detective, who perched on other armchair, hands together as though in prayer, his finger brushing against his lips in thought. He sighed heavily.

"There was a man – about a year ago. He played a sort of…game, with me. Sent me warnings. Five pips. Puzzles for me to solve." He glanced at the young woman. "You're a new puzzle."

Amy shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable.

"A puzzle? No. Like I said, I'm a nobody."

Sherlock smiled ruefully. "Now we both know that's not true. I don't know what it is yet. Give me time though. I'll figure it out."

Amy stood and walked into the kitchen, examining all the laboratory equipment with interest. She plucked a shiny red apple from the fruit bowl and pierced the skin with her thumbnail, carving a smiley face into the rosy surface.

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away…" she murmured softly.

"But the Doctor is cute so screw the fruit" called Sherlock from the living room.

Shocked, Amy spun on her heel and stood in front of him.

"What did you just say?" her eyes full of sadness. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"A childish rhyme, nothing more. Why?" he looked puzzled.

"You said…never mind" Amy shook off the remark, examining the possessions on Sherlock's desk with interest – a map of the solar system, a pile of business cards, a cluster of phone sim cards, a dusty old pocket watch, some leaflets from an art gallery…and a skull. She shuddered at the sight.

"A friend of yours?" she grinned, gesturing at the grimace, frozen in death. Sherlock shook his head.

"More of an acquaintance really. Negretto Sylvius. Long story, don't want to bore you."

Amy sank back into the armchair with a sigh. Sherlock leaned forwards, whispering earnestly to her.

"Now you were the first pip. I don't know why, but I can't solve the puzzle that is you until I have more clues."

As if in response, Sherlock's Blackberry pinged into life. He stared at the screen intently, listening to the 4 pips that came blaring out of it. On the display was a picture of a bow tie, covered in splatters of dark crimson blood…

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** Uuuuugh I'm sorry its so aweful :( please don't hate me!**

_***puppy dog eyes***_


	3. HeWhoMustNotBeNamed

**Okay then, here we go again :)**

**In A Study In Pink, the Cabbie says "There's a name. That no-one says. And I ain't gonna say it, neither." **

**Hands up if you shouted Voldemort at the TV. *Guiltily puts hand up***

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Benedict Cumberbatch, but I don't. *dayumm* Neither do I own Amy Pond, Sherlock, Doctor Who or any other BBC stuffs metioned here :p**

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"No!" Amy wailed, sinking to the floor in floods of tears. Sherlock spun round, his face void of emotion.

"This means something to you?" he asked, calm and collected as always. Amy couldn't contain her grief. Clutching the union-jack pillow to her heaving chest, she poured out her story to Sherlock – growing up in Leadworth and one night meeting the raggedy Doctor. The endless trips to psychiatrists, all ending with her biting them. Then, encountering the Doctor again and travelling with him and Rory through time and space. How she and Rory had taken a break from the adventures for a while, staying in a luxury hotel in Central London. How they had bumped into a 'client' from Amy's kissogram days. How Rory had stormed out of the hotel bar, texting three day s later to inform Amy he was back in Leadworth with his parents, but that she shouldn't come looking for him, as he needed time to think. Sherlock listened intently, never moving, never looking away from Amy, and never making even the slightest sound. Finally, Amy finished and wiped at her eyes.

"You probably think I'm mad, and that it all sounds impossible." She sniffed. Sherlock smiled.

"Not at all. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." He brushed a tear away from Amy's cheek.

"I like to think that nothing is impossible" he whispered. Amy glanced up.

"Whoever this is sending the messages, he has done something to the Doctor. We need to find him. Anything could happen without the Doctor. He has saved so many lives, so many times – we owe it to him. I owe it to him." She stared at the floor, desperately trying to think of the next move they should make. Eventually however, exhaustion overpowered her and she sank into a restless sleep.

Amy woke up to the sound of Sherlock's voice. He was stood at the window speaking on his mobile phone, silhouetted in the early morning light.

"I need this information Mycroft, and you are the only person I know with this authority…yes…Torchwood won't speak to me…Harkness thinks I'm an arrogant sod…oh very funny. Just…just help me this once, Mycroft. Text me." He hung up, glancing over his shoulder at Amy.

"Good morning. My brother is trying to get me some information regarding the Doctor's whereabouts. Now, you'll be wanting some breakfast i suppose?"

Half an hour later, Sherlock and Amy sat in the quiet café underneath 221B, Sherlock staring intently out of the window, Amy sipping delicately at a steaming mug of tea.

"Sherlock? When you said this person had left puzzles for you before? What happened?" Sherlock sighed wearily.

"As I said, it happened about a year ago. There was a man who went unnamed for a long time, because people were too scared to mention his name –"

"Oh my god – Voldemort?" Amy giggled. Sherlock gave an icy stare back.

"You know, Voldemort? From Harry Potter? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Amy looked slightly guilty at having interrupted. Sherlock imply rolled his eyes and continued.

"His name was Moriarty. He was the brains behind a lot of the cases I was working to solve around that time. Eventually, I solved the cases he alerted me to and met him at a swimming pool in East London. He had strapped a vest full of Semtex to my…my colleague" Sherlock's eyes had turned cold and detached. Clearly the memories were painful.

"I thought we were safe. But he came back. And I shot at the bomb vest. John saved my life – he pushed me into the pool. But he took the full force of the explosion." He trailed off, a single tear falling into his coffee. Amy placed her hand over his sympathetically.

Sherlock phone vibrated noisily in his jacket pocket. Retrieving it, he looked at the screen, a smile breaking on his pale features.

**Torchwood have just detected rift activity in the Baker Street area. Keep an eye out. MH.**

Sherlock smiled, turning the screen to show Amy. Before she could speak, an eerie screeching sound filled the air. Amy eyes glowed with happiness, and she ran outside just in time to see the familiar blue police box materialise in the middle of the road. The door opened with a creak, and the Doctor stepped out, wearing a distinctly non-blood stained bow tie, and looking just as he always did. At the sight of his expression however, Amy's heart dropped. His eyes were filled with sadness, and his face didn't bear the usual confident grin.

"The Master. He's here. The Master is on Earth. Again"

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**Reviews would be appreciated :)**

**P.S. Did you spot a hidden clue in Chapter 2? Or did the bow-tie distract you?**


	4. An Impossible Man

**Heyy :)**

**Here we go again, sorry it's taken so long for an update, but I have about ten tonnes of work to do, especially as I couldn't do any last weekend cos I was performing at my town's Christmas Light Switch on :D**

**But anyways, thank you to everyone who's been reviewing this :) and I'm so happy that people are picking up on stuff, especially becuse some of them are red herrings... ;)**

**That's all I'm saying - SPOILERS! *very bad River Song impression***

**ahem...anyway, here's the next part :) enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Benedict Cumberbatch, but I don't. *dayumm* Neither do I own Amy Pond, Sherlock, Doctor Who or any other BBC stuffs mentioned here :p**

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Amy ran across the road, embracing the Doctor with unhidden relief. He pulled away, his face serious.

"Amy I've told you about the Master haven't I? What he did?" his voice shook, and his hands were clammy. A shiver ran down Amy's spine – she had never seen him this afraid before. Nodding hesitantly, she remembered the stories the Doctor had told her; of Harold Saxon, and the year that never was.

"But Doctor, that was a long time ago. You were a different man back then" She picked a piece of fluff from his shoulder, before noticing he was staring at Sherlock.

"Speaking of a different man...who are you?" the Doctor strode across, offering his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock shook it.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes. I'm a consulting detective. Amy' been dragged rather unwillingly into my latest case"

Amy blushed, muttering something about it not being entirely unwillingly. The Doctor simply smirked.

"But that's impossible." He scoffed. "Who are you really?"

The consulting detective looked confused, his icy blue eyes regarding the Doctor's skinny frame. The Doctor gaped back.

"Sherlock Holmes? As in, the Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street? As in the novels by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? Hound of the Baskervilles? The Speckled Band? Moriarty?"

At the mention of his enemy's name Sherlock's head snapped up to glare at the Time Lord.

"What the hell do you know about Moriarty?" he hissed.

"Only that neither of you should be real. Two fictional characters, alive and well in 21st century London. Oh god – London. It always has to be London, doesn't it? London or Cardiff." The Doctor ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

Sherlock looked intrigued, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of another puzzle to solve, though he really didn't see how this was possible – fictional characters indeed.

Back at 221B, the three sat in awkward silence. Amy picked at her flaking nail polish, Sherlock tapping away at the keypad of his laptop, the Doctor simply staring at the consulting detective with awe.

"The thing that bothers me, is that you, Amy, have never heard of Sherlock." He looked across at his companion, who merely shook her head, saying nothing.

"And when I googled him, the only results were that of his website. The Science of Deduction. Very interesting." He nodded his approval.

"Thanks" Sherlock nodded back, acknowledging the compliment.

The Doctor leant over the desk, flicking pieces of paper disinterestedly, trying to connect all his thoughts. His fingers traced the patterns etched on the front of a dusty fob watch lying amongst the clutter. Something at the back of his mind stirred. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb had lit up in his head. The thought came rushing from the darkness and cleared the fog that had settled over his mind. He spun on his heel and grabbed Amy's shoulders, startling her.

"Where's Rory? Why isn't he here?" he asked, breathless with excitement. She shook her head.

"We had a bit of a fight. He texted me saying he was back in Leadworth."

The Doctor jumped up, clapping his hands together.

"You see, that's not right. Rory loves you to pieces, more than even you can imagine. He waited for over 2000 years, guarding you while you were inside the Pandorica, through so many battles, never once leaving you. Why would he change now? No. Something is definitely wrong."

As if in response, Sherlock's phone once again sprang into life, only this time it was ringing. The Doctor put a finger on his lips, silently telling Amy to keep quiet, and crept to sit next to Sherlock. He reached across, took the phone from Sherlock, and answered it…

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**As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


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